13. Coyhaique to Cerro Castillo

On Wednesday 12th February we had a lazy start with slightly sore heads. We loaded up our bikes in Coyhaique’s El camping, bid Richard, Jeanette and the German shepherd farewell, and had an early lunch of bread and cheese. We stumbled our bikes up the incredibly steep hill back to the Carretera and stopped at cafe peregrino for some post lunch coffee and cake.

Buzzing on cake we set off south once more uphill quickly leaving the town and a few stray dogs behind, continuing up the Rio Simpson valley. We passed several farm machinery outlets and hardware stores but soon were back in open country, dry and arid now with cliffs on one side of the wide valley. A young Chilean couple overtook us on normal bicycles only for us to see them tending to a puncture round the next bend.

We bore southeast leaving the river temporarily and entered a landscape of rolling hills and big skies, helped along uphill by a stiff tailwind. Cumulus clouds were growing around us and a shower passed quickly. To the south we looked down on a double waterfall and some geodome lodges before turning further east. We entered another long stretch of roadworks and moved from one side of the road to the other around all sorts of machinery as traffic flowed past us in alternating directions. The tailwind grew in strength powering us up the hill but also carrying in some very black clouds and spots of rain. We quickly started descending at high speed hoping to out run the storm but at a bus shelter decided to don waterproofs in readiness.

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In fact the rain seemed to miss us as we turned south into the hamlet of El Blanco at the confluence of Rios Blanco and Simpson. We turned off the road in search of a very well reviewed campsite and bumped along the gravel dodging the headwind and finally coming into the farm site, with an immaculate carport shelter for tents and impressive communal refugio. Too much white bread had given us indigestion so after a lie down we pitched up under the shelter next to a Dutch German fellow who was cycling North and had strained his knee doing battle with the headwinds from Ushuaia.

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That evening after wonderful hot showers, we cooked inside the beautiful communal refugio on a proper gas hob with our neighbour, a Dutch family touring by car, and another couple of cycle tourers. The Dutch family had bought their car in Santiago after travelling by bus before then, but had been awaiting a spare suspension part for many days before being able to travel much off road. We got an early night and decided it might be worth spending a day here given the lovely surroundings and plenty of life admin that needed doing.

Fresh eggs available the next day from the flocks of very comical geese and ducks wandering around the site confirmed our decision and we settled down in the refugio to book return flights home, onward flights for the summer, wedding RSVPs and accommodation, and to investigate how we might get from Southern Patagonia back up to Bariloche. The route from Puerto Montt to Bariloche by ferry and bicycle looked fantastic, passing volcanoes on the way, so we decided to aim for PM from somewhere in southern Chile.

After an omelette for lunch it didn’t take long to explore El Blanco, the main attraction being a Mate museum, which unfortunately was closed. But we found a good traditional little counter shop and spent some time requesting groceries from the very patient keeper in Spanish and sign language. That evening we read a brochure for Patagonia national park that was printed off on the side and shared a beer over quinoa dinner. The most recent national park in Chile was recently donated to the government by the Tompkins Foundation and looked incredible, the best place to see guanacos and potentially even pumas. We added it to our schedule for before Cochrane.

On Friday we had no more excuses for rest days and packed up promptly to continue onwards towards Villa Cerro Castillo. Whilst all on tarmac road, the route involved a significant uphill stretch into Cerro Castillo national park and turning southwest also meant significant cross winds. Initially we sailed along southeast with an amazing tail wind barely pedalling uphill but at the Ruta 7 fork, we experienced or first taste of some crosswind gusts that almost knocked us over and at times made cycling impossible.

Fortunately as we climbed uphill there was more shelter and the wind tended to follow the road, resulting in some challenging but at least ridable headwind. We entered thick forest, marker poles 3 metres high on the road to indicate the edge in thick snow and signs warning traffic of huemul deer. Keeping a close eye out ourselves we arrived at the national park campsite just in time for lunch. They charged us £2 each for the privilege but it was worth it for the wind shelter.

In the afternoon we bore northwest to the headwaters of the Rio Blanco, descending steeply along a tributary into the wind. We passed a waterfall that was being blown spectacularly back upwards in the gusts, which also necessitated cycling quite hard downhill at times. But dumpster before long we turned sharply southwest and into some shelter, albeit with another climb back up another tributary. The volcanic rock cliffs on either side were spectacular, one formed into the silhouette of a human face.

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At last we reached the plateau top and the highest point on the Carretera Austral, as the sun dipped in and out below the mountain tops to the northwest. Rounding a bend to the south we began a very rapid descent with some occasional bits of unpaved road dangerously appearing with little notice. Now growing tired, it took all our concentration to descend safely whilst being overtaken by the occasional fast car. Rounding a bend halfway down we came upon the famous switchback descent, with several tourists pulled over for photos. Cycling down it was great fun and it was then only a few more km downhill to Cerro Castillo, a stunning ride into the sunset.

We arrived at the first and potentially best camping option at around 8.30. With the most spectacular view of the mountain Cerro Castillo, it comprised several bell tents for glamping with a common living room attached to the owners house and sheltered outdoor space for cooking. We looked around for a sheltered spot but the only one was already taken. As we started to eye up another space behind one of the bell tents the owner appeared and said we couldn’t go there as it was for their private use. The door being on the opposite side of was hard to see what use this might be but we asked where else we might go for wind shelter. The owner pointed vaguely to a spot by a tree which was doing a perfect impression of a wind tunnel. We looked at him incredulously and he said he would speak to his girlfriend.

5 minutes later as we were preparing to try another campsite he came back and said we could go behind the bell tent as no one was booked in tonight but would have to move tomorrow. We thanked him and got set up, by which time it was dark and cold. There was little space inside to cook but we were shown a work surface by the only sink, which seemed to be shared between guests and the family. Cooking was tricky but at last we were inside and able to enjoy the living dining room, which was beautiful.

After some rain in the night, Saturday dawned bright and we met our tent neighbours who were also cycling south and had passed us the day before. It turned out the female cyclist had come off her bike on one of the downhill unpaved obstacles but fortunately was ok other than a strained knee. Nonetheless they planned to climb the Cerro Castillo viewpoint today, being on a tight timescale. We stretched our aching legs and decided to postpone the 1200m climb for tomorrow and today explore the cave of the hands instead.

After breakfast we walked down the hill through the village and out the other side, eventually turning left towards the hand painted cliffs. Paying a small entrance fee we strolled up a narrow path through beautiful beech scrub and emerged at the cliff face, which was decorated in multiple red hand prints, both dipped in paint directly and with paint flicked over them to create an outline. Seeing the prints we wondered what the artists must have thought about 12000 years ago, being presumably identical to us other than lacking in technology. Probably worrying about where to sleep that night and where the next meal was coming from, just like cycle tourers!

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After the cliff face we popped into a museum nearby set in an old brick school house built in the 1950s to educate local children who previously would have had to go away and board at distant schools. There were fascinating exhibits on the lives and history of pioneers who colonised the Rio Ibanez valley for the first time, really not long ago.

Now hungry for lunch we walked back to town and went to a cafe serving the most enormous sandwiches we’d ever seen, along with a plate of chips and some local beer. Then grocery shopping, including additional oats to try for lunch with stock instead of white bread, and back to the campsite for rest, more food and sleep. We moved our tent to the wind tunnel but as promised by our host, the wind did start to abate in the evening and we got a good night’s sleep.

On Sunday we awoke early to clear skies and lighter wind, and hired walking poles from the campsite to take on the Laguna Castillo hike for views of the Cerro. After paying quite a hefty park entrance fee we climbed steadily through nira beech forest, trying to read softly in the hope of spotting a huemul deer as the Americans had done a day earlier. No luck for us as we emerged onto the steeper scrub path and eventually rocky scree, but the views were stunning. We made it to the top in less time than expected and were rewarded with the most incredible view either of us had seen: the snow clad Cerro Castillo peak descending straight down to an aqua marine lake, almost too bright to look at. We tucked in to our first lunch of stock using hot water from our thermos with porridge oats, a surprisingly successful meal, and then had fun with Hannah’s camera before going for a wander around the rim above the lake.

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The wind at the top picked up steadily and after an hour it grew cold. We packed up and headed down swiftly, passing a few latecomers on the way down. We were startled by several cows but alas no huemul deer again; we were later to learn there are only around 2000 left in the wild, so seeing them is a rare occurrence.

Back in the village we made enquiries about the upcoming road closure and possible buses to enable a swift passage through the roadworks uphill and against a headwind. The tourist information hut confirmed that buses did run in the morning and afternoon, by several companies, but she couldn’t say exactly when they might arrive or leave, or whether bicycles were permitted on board. We decided to continue by bicycle but stop at a well reviewed campsite 11 km down the road to see if we could hitch a ride.